


when the mountains crumble to the sea

by IssyLily



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, it's magnus of course there's flirting, my take on 1x12, some flirting, what i would love to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IssyLily/pseuds/IssyLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus knows he's left it almost too late, and yet despite his want to appear bitter and uncaring, he cannot bring himself to let Alexander Lightwood go without a fight. A quick lie that no one believes gets him into the Institute the night before Alec's wedding, but Magnus knows that only the truth will do.</p><p>He's just not sure what the truth is yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the mountains crumble to the sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A.K.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=A.K.).



> Whilst reading, you should definitely listen to Wild is the Wind, and Rock and Roll Suicide (both by the late great David Bowie, and the latter is perfect for Magnus!angst, I thought you all should know).

“Magnus you can't be here, not tonight,” Isabelle said firmly, her fearsome stance and strong tone not at all thwarted by the slightness of her body. She planted a hand on either side of the doorway, and although Magnus could think of a thousand creative ways to force her to subside and let him pass, he could not find the will to do so. Though she currently stood between him and an issue he was very anxious to resolve – and _quickly_ – he genuinely _adored_ Isabelle; they shared a lot in common, particularly a weakness for a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed, Angelic (and it didn't count as cliché if it was true) Shadowhunter. Said Shadowhunter was the issue that needed resolving however, and even his goodwill towards Isabelle meant little in the face of losing _him_.

“My dear Isabelle,” Magnus said warmly, affectionate and yet teasing, “You know as well as I that tonight is the only time I can ever be here.” He raised his left eyebrow for effect, a gleam of expectation in his expression. She _had_ to let him in. Much like Jennifer Hudson, he had One Night Only to sort out the gargantuan mess he had made. Of course, he wasn't the only one who had made it; Magnus was almost affronted by himself and that thought. Lovely Alec had to take some of the responsibility too.

“He doesn't want to see you,” Isabelle said, though her voice lacked the coldness and sharpness that would have made him turn around and leave for good.

“And I suppose he told you that himself?” Magnus scoffed condescendingly, and Izzy fixed him with a cool glare. “A note pinned to his door asking you to bat away any other potential suitors on this oh so sacred night?”

“Well his vampire lover Leon has already been round, so I'm obviously not doing a very good job,” Izzy replied sarcastically, and although it was a stab at humour, Magnus' heart flurried for a few seconds in panic.

“Well as it turns out, I'm not here to woo your stick-in-the-mud brother,” Magnus said pointedly, staring down at his blue nails, keeping his grin tucked away as Izzy's face screwed up into an expression of confusion.

“But I thought...what with the wedding...”

Magnus held up a finger to silence the young girl, who rolled her eyes but closed her lips together into a pout.

“Isabelle, if you say the word wedding again to me, I will not be held responsible for my actions,” Magnus said in a sing-song voice that kept his tone jovial though the real threat was implicit. He liked her, he did, but he was shivering at the mere thought. “And no, I am not here to put a stop to the joyous day.”

There was a thick silence between the two that lasted several seconds before Izzy huffed out in exapseration and said, “Well what is it then Magnus? What could you possibly want with Alec if not to try and change his pig-headed, stubborn mind?”

Magnus chuckled at Izzy's description and the tension between them relaxed to a simmer, although Magnus knew that her protectiveness of and his desire for the same man would invariably lead to a clash if he didn't wrap this up quickly. The Lightwoods had been mere cowards in the past, but this new generation was making him work for his role in their lives. He rather liked their spark, though perhaps not when it stood five foot six high in his way.

“Alexander is looking after something for me, and I have the sudden urge to see it,” Magnus offered up lightly, “The payment for my part in your trial, actually.”

Izzy furrowed her brows and pursued her red lips together.

“His bow and quiver,” Magnus added helpfully before they had to engage in the whole question-answer routine once more. He was rapidly becoming bored, and given the timing of his visit, he knew he was cutting it fine.

“Alec gave up his bow and quiver for me?” Izzy asked, her voice faltering at the mere suggestion, “He's had that since he was twelve; he's never left for a mission without it.”

“He's never left for a mission without you either Isabelle,” Magnus replied and she gave him a half-hearted smile, “If it makes you feel slightly less guilty, that was his second option. He didn't deem my first request suitable or...tasteful, it would seem.”

Izzy didn't even have to ask. “My brother isn't some prostitute to be bought out or bargained for Magnus,” she reprimanded, though Magnus knew she was trying not to laugh.

“Darling, if our lovely Alec was such a thing, I wouldn't be standing in the doorway of this hateful place arguing with a girl four centuries younger than myself, and getting rather wet in the process.” Magnus shimmied his way past Isabelle and into the entrance hall of the Institute, shaking droplets of rain from his velvet coat. He turned and smiled brightly, “I would be having the time of my very long life instead.”

Izzy made a face that conveyed her desire to sink below the earth's outer layer and into its' molten core, and Magnus stopped a short burst of laughter. He brushed a hand over his coat and the rest of the dampness evaporated instantly. “Who has a wedding in November anyway? It's hardly the weather for romance,” Magnus commented, walking down the hallway, forcing Izzy to run along beside him. He had almost reached the door to the main surveillance room when Izzy yanked at his wrist and pulled him back to face her.

“I can't stop you seeing him, it seems,” Izzy said ferociously, and Magnus stopped resisting, “And I know how you feel about him. And I know how Lydia feels about him. And no, it doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense that you could make him happy in a way that she never could. And no-” she stopped, and made sure no one else was within earshot, “-I do not want this wedding to go ahead-

“Oh don't be such a baby,” Izzy said, interrupting herself as Magnus frowned at the use of the _w_ word, “None of us want it. But I have to respect the choices Alec makes, no matter if I disagree with the intention or the act itself.”

“Oh Isabelle, you're a brave and loyal little Shadowhunter,” Magnus said smartly, before brushing past her and into the belly of the Institute, “But I'm _not_.”

He heard her almost growl behind him, but Magnus had plunged from the frying pan into the fire, and he was determined that he wouldn't get burnt.

Though he had glamoured himself to the rest of the Institute and its inhabitants, many of the Shadowhunters who had taken up residence with the New York clan felt a shiver run through them that night, a coldness, a harsh breeze that swept past them. Some even swore they heard the swish of a cloak or jacket, the tap of shoes against the metallic flooring. But their suspicious minds suddenly found something else to concentrate upon – one of the many benefits of Warlock glamours, Magnus mused to himself as he approached one of the training rooms at the back of the building. He knew he was committing a treasonable offence – Downworlders were forced by law to reveal themselves to Shadowhunters in any given situation, the cheek of it – but what could he say? He was a romantic at heart.

He knew Alec well enough to be sure that he would be training instead of sleeping. It seemed to be his token place when the world was on his shoulders. Magnus had no doubt that the desecration of his family's name before the Clave was an enormous weight on Alec's shoulders, but it was so unjust for Robert and Maryse to allow their barely-adult son to take that burden for himself. Magnus thought very little of Alec's parents, and always had; their children were marvels, on the other hand.

Although he was on more of an emotional and spiritual journey tonight, Magnus had to rein both his eyes and his tongue in when he entered the training room. _Their Angel have mercy on me_ , he prayed mockingly, admiring the broad curves of Alec's shoulders, the tight muscles almost throbbing in his bare back.

The taught skin across those _delectable_ hip bones.

Magnus was pretty sure he was drooling by the time Alec noticed he was there, but the flash of pure longing Magnus convinced himself he had seen before the Shadowhunter's face became confused, gave him hope that this relationship could not stay unrequited for long. He couldn't bear to walk away from here tonight without Alec's heart in his pocket. He couldn't bear the thought of losing him now.

He had tried to be blasé before, ignoring any contact and making snide and catty comments when forced to interact with him, but Magnus had been counting down the hours for weeks now, and this was enough. Alec had been unintentionally playing his heartstrings like a violin for 336 hours now; Magnus couldn't take the melancholy anymore. He had been alone for four hundred years, but he had never been lonely until he realised he might lose Alexander Lightwood.

“Alexander, you're looking divine, as ever,” Magnus said, as if he were complimenting Alec's sweater, and he melted just a little at the blush that arose on the Shadowhunter's rouged cheeks. It was clear he had been working out for far longer than was strictly necessary, and it hurt Magnus' heart a little to know that he was suffering like this.

"Magnus...what are you...” Alec started, never knowing what to say in front of the Warlock. Words always seemed so difficult when he was around. “What are you doing here?”

Magnus beamed at him, and strolled closer, keeping his hands entwined together behind his back.

“It's nice to see you too darling,” he murmured, approaching the panel in the wall behind which the Shadowhunters of this Institute hid their most precious weapons. Of course he knew where it was – he didn't get to be the High Warlock of Brooklyn for banishing a few demons and having the most magnificent hairstyle in the city.

“It's not that it's not...” Alec stuttered, and Magnus stopped and stared and waited for him to coagulate a sentence. “It's not that it's not nice to see you,” Alec said slowly, as if he were speaking in a foreign language, “It's just a surprise considering...”

“Considering your upcoming nuptials?” Magnus asked, clenching his nails into his palm to stop his body from betraying his cool exterior, “Don't worry Alexander, I'm here for a lesson, not for you.”

“A lesson?” Alec asked, puzzled, “What could I possibly teach you? You've been alive longer than every single person in this city put together.”

“That may be true dear boy, but you have a special skill set that I...hope to take advantage of,” Magnus replied, licking his lips and opening up the wall panel to reveal what he was supposed was _his_ bow and quiver. Oh he never intended to take it away from Alec – he would not be cruel or bitter in his heartbreak, although several smashed plates in his apartment would argue differently. But it was an excuse to see him, to visit the Institute – a way to maintain his place in Alec's life.

And maybe even a way to win him over.

“You want to learn how to shoot a bow and arrow?” Alec asked in disbelief, “Now? At eleven thirty at night?”

“Oh is that the time?” Magnus asked casually, “I didn't notice. So close to midnight...I always think it's a romantic time, don't you? Lovers under the moonlight, the striking of the clock, a new day full of new possibilities...new futures.”

He trailed off, gazing at Alec in a way that neither could define as subtle.

“Didn't you ever meet Robin Hood and ask him to teach you?” Alec said quietly, his mouth dry and his heart pounding like a sprinter's trainers on the track. He had to change the subject.

“How old do you think I am?” Magnus asked in false offence, clasping a hand to his chest and letting his mouth form a perfect _o_ of malcontent. Alec smiled a small smile despite himself, one that seemed rarer than the sapphires of his eyes. Magnus' stomach quivered at the sight – he had done that. Everything he forced himself through seemed worthwhile when Alec Lightwood smiled.

“Anyway, seeing as I never was one of the Merry Men, I thought you could show me the basics,” Magnus proffered, “Unless of course, you're busy doing other things, and in that case, I'm sure Isabelle would be happy to show me out...”

“No, no!” Alec said quickly, stammering once again. He must've noticed how pleased Magnus looked at his desperation for him to stay, because he lowered his voice considerably when he said, “I can teach you a few things. Where do you want to start?”

Ten minutes later, Magnus' back was pressed up against Alec's chest – though he had tragically retrieved his shirt - the Shadowhunter boy's' fingers curving around his, his lips hovering by his right temple in some kind of divine torture. Magnus could feel every breath he took, every exhale, every single tremble. He himself had a hard time controlling his hands, but he kept his right hand on the bowstring, and his left on the grip. Magnus may have overplayed his complete incompetence – he had learnt the art of archery in 18 th  century France and still regularly competed in the Mundane Olympics (he had three gold medals and a bronze, and the latter still irritated him, _the damnable South Koreans_ ) – but to have Alexander so close was well worth the method acting. To feel this every day, to be caught up in this embrace, Magnus knew would be as close as he would ever get to Heaven.

“And you need to keep your elbow completely straight, or the arrow will fly on an upwards trajectory, instead of straight across,” Alec said clearly, and it became suddenly apparent to Magnus just how much Alec cared about his choice equipment. There was no trace of nervousness in his voice, no flighty tone or wobble that usually stunted his and Magnus' conversations.

“And you're all about being straight now aren't you Alexander?” Magnus replied, and he knew it was cruel before the words left his mouth, and yet for some reason, his brain allowed them to be said.

Alec didn't say a word in response, and yet Magnus felt his body stiffen behind him, the pressure of his hands upon his loosen. He didn't step away, nor did he left go of Magnus' forearm, but Magnus knew he had blindly stumbled into a minefield of topics not to be discussed.

“I'm sorry darling, that was uncalled for,” Magnus said admonishingly, ashamed of himself.

“Are you still going to call me that once I'm married?” Alec asked, stepping away for a moment to fetch an arrow from the quiver resting against the wall. He placed it into the correct position on the rest, and connected the tail with the bowstring, almost clicking into place – the perfect set-up.

“Call you what?” Magnus questioned, and he could feel Alec's blush.

“'Darling',” he mumbled, so quietly that Magnus could have mistaken the word for a cough or a even an exhale of breath.

Magnus broke free of Alec's intense grip, though it physically pained him to do so, and smiled sadly.

“Oh Alexander, I won't be calling you at all once you're married,” he said, and it took every ounce of willpower, every reminder that he was centuries old and should _not_ be getting so wound-up over a _Shadowhunter_ for the love of all that was unholy, to not fall into Alec's arms and beg him to stop this _madness_.

Alec looked as though he had been stabbed. The blood seemed to drain from his face into his feet, and his mouth opened and closed involuntarily whilst his brain tried to catch up. He shook his head suddenly, like he had malfunctioned and just finished rebooting. He unplucked the arrow from the bow and stowed both away in their holders.

“So, those are the basics of shooting; I know we didn't get to the point of actually releasing any arrows, but the most important things are posture and grip, and you've got those down, so you should be fine from here-on out,” Alec said, though the words didn't make sense to him, and he may well have been reciting the Welsh National Anthem for all he could tell. There was a storm in his head, and it was drowning everything else out.

“Alexander,” Magnus said calmly, moving to take one of his hands, but Alec stepped back quickly, recoiling in anger or disgust or misery.

“Why did you come here?” Alec asked, and Magnus was surprised to find a deep-seated fury in his words, a depth of anger that Magnus didn't realise the young Shadowhunter had unlocked yet. “And don't lie, I know that bow and arrow crap was only an excuse, so why are you here?”

“You know why I'm here Alexander,” Magnus said firmly, “Because if I wasn't here, you would be at my doorstep right now. We're drawn to one another. And I can't stand being here and watching you deny it.”

“I'm not denying it Magnus,” Alec replied sharply, “But you told me to follow my heart. And my family is the only reason mine still works.”

“Well that's very nice Alec, but it doesn't mean you have to marry the first girl who walks through those front doors,” Magnus retorted, glad that they were finally having this argument, finally getting this out in the open, “It doesn't mean you have to be both married and alone for the rest of your life, and be miserable, and full of regret. Loneliness is like a festering wound and it'll kill you eventually Alexander; I've seen it happen to a thousand men ten times stronger than you, and I will not stand by and watch it happen to you.”

“Why do you care so much?” Alec asked, and Magnus realised that the boy he loved was far more fragile than he seemed, far more breakable than those scars and runes would suggest. He had pushed too far in pursuit of what now seemed more unattainable than ever.

“Darling, you know why. You're the sunrise to my early morning, the stars to my night sky,” Magnus declared, and he allowed himself to be consumed by the pain of it all, “You're the blood in my body, and the heart in my chest. I've lived four hundred years, and I'll live four thousand more, and you're the only one I will ever want Alexander Lightwood. You're the only person who has ever made me wish I was human.”

And frankly, if the setting was different – if he was at home, surrounded by his cats and his books and his jewellery and his clothes and all the memorabilia of a long life lived well – Magnus thought he would've cried. He did not know Alec as a lover, did not know the outline of his body or the feel of his heart beneath his palm; he did not know his innermost desires and dreams, and could not fathom the man he would become, to whom he would be loyal, and what he would believe in, but Magnus finally fully succumbed to his love for the eldest of the Lightwood children, accepting his damnation and the consequences of falling for what he couldn't have.

“Are you- do- do you have no shame?” Alec asked in incredulity, stepping forward into Magnus' personal space, the broken warrior reborn in anger before him. Magnus had no time to be shocked, no opportunity to feel sorry for himself, before Alec continued, obviously having had enough of the Warlock's admissions.

“I'm getting married tomorrow, and I know you don't like it – by the Angel, it's not the life I would've chosen for myself – but you can't come in here, you can't tell me this now, it's just- it's playing dirty. It's so unfair Magnus, you can't- you've upturned my life, you can't...”

He was only a few inches away now, and his bright blue eyes were blazing like the bright sparks of Magnus' magic, and neither of them could look away. Alec bit his lip subconsciously, and felt the warmth of Magnus' hurried breath against his mouth. He was too close, he should take a step back and let the fresh air cool his mind...and yet the pull was magnetic, and he was too weak to break free. Magnus' eyes were sunshine whirlpools, spun gold, rich and vibrant and  _burning_. And looking into them, Alec knew what it meant to _live_.

“I...” was all he managed before Magnus' finger on his lips silenced him.

“When it comes to you darling,” he whispered, removing his finger and leaning in slowly, “you should know by now that I am _completely shameless._ ”

Magnus pressed his lips to Alec's, and the world ended.

 

 

Or maybe, it just began anew.

**Author's Note:**

> It's 1:02 and I haven't checked this. I've also had 2 ciders. Make of the story what you will.


End file.
